


Mooch

by imafriendlydalek



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anxiety Attacks, Cougar has an anxiety attack, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and Jake helps him through it, they're both former soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: Jake can't help but feel intrigued by his hat-wearing neighbor, who has been mooching off his WiFi.





	Mooch

**Author's Note:**

> For Amethystina, who introduced me to this beautiful fandom and who has been cheerleading this fic since I first presented the idea, what, two and a half years ago? Almost three? It's been a while. There was gonna be so much more to this, but... ugh, where can I buy time?!

The thing that first piqued Jake’s interest was the search for “how long will pizza keep in the fridge,” since that was definitely a concern he was familiar with. 

“I know exactly how you feel, my cheese-loving friend,” he mumbled to himself around a mouthful of bagel as he scrolled through the activity on his open WiFi network. 

He had set the network up in part as a way to stick it to The Man, who totally overcharged for something that really should be a communal amenity, like water, since come on, WiFi was just as necessary, but also because it was an easy way for him to, well, not quite keep an eye on his neighbors, but to make sure no one was up to anything too weird. He hadn’t encountered that so far, or at least if anyone was, they were careful enough to only do so on their own secured networks. Jake couldn’t help himself. He was naturally too curious for his own good - a trait that had gotten him into plenty of trouble in the past, especially during his time in the Army - and grating enough to most people that it was difficult to get to know anyone. He’d learned a lot about his neighbors this way, and also a lot from them. Someone - Jake assumed a female someone - seemed to spend most of their day on Pinterest, pinning everything from guides on how to organize your entire life to recipes for “The Best Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies You’ll Ever Have.” One peek at that recipe and Jake had felt compelled to try it out himself and damn, it had been right. Those were some sinfully good cookies.

It was oddly fun to watch as the tenants changed, to see internet use habits shift as old neighbors moved out and new ones took their place. Pizza Guy here was one of those. For the past two years, that IP address had acted like a typical college girl - lots of Facebook, Netflix, Hulu, Google searches about things like Renaissance art and drawing techniques and color theory, and image searches for whoever the latest hot actor was. Then literally from one day to the next that had stopped. Now it was streaming GolTV and looking up the scores from recent CONCACAF and UEFA Cup matches. It visited the VFW site a few times, and its Google searches were in Spanish. 

Well, until this one.

***

Jake had just finished his bi-weekly laundry extravaganza and stepped into the elevator with a basket full of neatly folded clothes when he heard the front door to the building close. Unlike most New Yorkers, who would mash the Door Close button so they wouldn’t have to share the elevator with anyone else, Jake liked to think of himself as a Nice Person, so he stuck his foot in the door to keep it from closing.

_And boy, karma sure is a beautiful thing,_ Jake thought, and he was pretty sure every good deed he had ever done was getting repaid right now because the guy that stepped into the elevator with him was definitely one of the most beautiful human beings Jake had ever shared space with.

He was tall, though not quite as tall as Jake, and he walked with the type of calm confidence that Jake had never managed to master. Jake couldn’t help looking as the man stepped into the elevator, nodded ever so slightly to thank Jake - just barely enough to make the brim of his leather cowboy hat dip. He pushed the button for the tenth floor and leaned back against the railing that ran around the edge of the elevator looking like something out of a cigarette commercial.

Jake smiled to himself as the elevator doors slid shut and began singing softly.

_“I saw your picture waving back at me from underneath the bed, from a long, long time ago”_ \- Jake gathered a lungful of air so he could belt out the next part - _“When all I had was a hat full of stars! The one I’ll always treasure, the one that you wore. You loved the look, but you never looked inside. You would have seen us there… You could’ve seen far…”_ He raised his hand, clutching at his heart. _“You should’ve seen the magic… In my hat full of stars...”_

The guy’s shoulders were shaking from stifled laughter and there was an amused twinkle in his dark eyes by the time the elevator came to a stop with a ding on the sixth floor. 

Jake hitched his laundry basket higher on his hip, still whistling to himself. “See ya, neighbor,” he said as casually as he could manage as he stepped out into the hallway.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the guy run a finger along the brim of his hat and throw Jake a mock salute, the corners of his lips turned up in a tiny smile.

***

And there it was, a few days later when Jake did his weekly scroll through the WiFi activity, from his new favorite IP address: first a Google search for “magic in my hat full of stars,” followed by a YouTube search for Cyndi Lauper.

Oh, Jake was going to have fun with this one, he could tell.

***

The next time Jake ran into the Hot Hat-Wearing WiFi Moocher was not nearly as much fun. He’d been out with some friends, he’d had a few to drink and he was making his way home. Alone, as was so often the case.

The elevator doors were just sliding closed when Jake got inside the building. “Hold up, hold up!” he called and launched himself forwards, sneaking a foot between the doors just before they shut.

He immediately wished he hadn’t, because he’d clearly just interrupted Hot Hat-Wearing WiFi Moocher and an equally hot woman in the middle of an elevator make-out session.

“Uh, hi. Sorry,” Jake mumbled, punching the 6 button repeatedly in the hopes the elevator would maybe go faster as a result.

It did not.

“Hey there,” the woman said, turning from where she’d been leaning into Hot Hat-Wearing WiFi Moocher’s embrace to assess Jake.

Jake was suddenly reminded of being called for muster.

Which he apparently did not pass, since the woman turned back to Hot Hat-Wearing WiFi Moocher (Jake really needed to come up with a better nickname. Maybe just Mooch.). When she tried to kiss the Mooch, though, he ducked his head to the side and shot her a look.

Mercifully, the elevator finally reached Jake’s floor and he stumbled out, mumbling “See ya, neighbor” as he fled.

He didn’t stop until he was inside his apartment, when he let out an agonized groan and slid down along the back of the door until he was sitting on the floor, his head bracketed between his knees.

What was he so worked up about, he asked himself. He’d seen plenty of his neighbors bringing home hook-ups - it was a pretty big building, after all - and some of them had been considerably less discreet. It had never bothered him before, except maybe that one time his one neighbor had brought home a girl that didn’t quite look old enough (but Jake had run a background check just in case and it had turned out that she just looked a lot younger than she was). 

So why had this made him so uncomfortable? Jake sat on the floor, running his hands back and forth through his hair as he tried to talk himself down, until finally his buzz was gone and his butt was asleep, so he dragged himself up and made his way to bed.

At least the hangover he had the next day was painful enough to keep his mind off anything else.

***

Jake was running late. Hopelessly late. Even if he ran flat-out to the subway and there happened to be a train on the platform when he got there, he’d be lucky to get to LaGuardia with enough time to get through security before his flight to New Hampshire took off.

He mashed the call button for the elevator again. Forget turkey, Jess was going to roast _him_ if he missed his flight home for Thanksgiving. He winced at the thought - turkey had always been their task, Jake and Ben, and they certainly had taken it seriously. The tradition had started the year the oven gave up its ghost on Thanksgiving Day, the second year after Jake and Ben had met in basic training. Jess had been a wreck, frantically trying to figure out how to cook green bean casserole and stuffing on the stovetop, so the two of them had gotten creative in the meantime and put the bird on the barbecue. And it had been magnificent.

They still did the turkey on the grill, even with Ben gone. Maybe it was their way of memorializing him. Jake would probably wave off that kind of “Psychology Today” diagnosis and say it was just easier that way, freed the oven up for more side dishes. 

Either way, Jake needed to get to New Hampshire today to grill some turkey.

The little light in the call button finally blinked, and a few seconds later, the doors slid open.

“Hallelujah!” Jake called out, looking up the heavens (well, ceiling) with raised arms. It wasn’t until he looked forward again to step into the elevator that he saw that it was, in fact not empty.

Hot Hat-Wearing WiFi Moocher huffed quietly. “Actually Jesús is my brother,” he said with an amused tone.

Shit, just what Jake needed. The memory of the last time he’d run into the guy (and his hot hook-up) rolled through him, and he scrubbed a hand over his face as if that would help wipe it away. It did not.

“Sorry. Damn elevator is so slow.”

“Slowest in Manhattan, I think,” Mooch replied. “Especially when you are in a hurry.”

Jake let out a huff. “Yeah, well, I have a flight to catch, so …” He let the sentence trail off, not bothering to finish it as the elevator finally reached the ground floor and opened its doors.

“Have a good trip,” Mooch said, gesturing for Jake to step out first.

That was unlikely, Jake thought, but he wasn’t about to go pouring out his soul to a hot stranger in the elevator. Instead, he mumbled as he shouldered his backpack and stepped out, “Yeah, thanks. Happy Thanksgiving.”

If Mooch replied, Jake didn’t hear it - he’d already taken off at a sprint towards the subway.

***

What the heck was that noise?

That was the only thought Jake could formulate in his sleep-deprived state. It was a week after Thanksgiving, and Jake hadn’t slept more than four hours a night since Jess’s big news. He was happy for her, that she was moving on, that she’d met someone (who wasn’t Ben) who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with (since Ben wasn’t around anymore). He just hadn’t been able to bring himself to actually _feel_ happy for her, not yet. He’d decided to take a shower, hoping that might clear his head.

The noise, whatever it was, blared over the sound of the shower. 

“Uuuuugh,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes to clear the shampoo from them as he fumbled around for the knobs to turn off the water.

The noise was still blaring.

Blaring.

Oh shit, that’s a fire alarm. The one for the building, the one that means they all needed to evacuate.

“Fuck,” he ground out as he tripped out of the shower, slung a towel around his waist and groped around for his glasses. “There they are,” he said as he heard them crash to the floor.

Jake dove under the sink, pulled out his glasses and shoved them on his face as he scrambled to gather his things.

He was out the door in under a minute, his most important possessions clutched tightly to his chest. It was only when the cold winter air hit him that he realized he should perhaps have put on more to wear than just a towel. Well, at least it was his favorite giant Death Star towel.

The alarm was still blaring, but at least it was slightly quieter out here. That didn’t seem to be putting Mooch at ease, though, Jake thought with a frown as he spotted his neighbor, hat pulled down to hide his eyes, leaning up against the wall of the building across the street, not in a casual way but in an almost terrified way, as if that wall were the only thing holding him up.

Jake had seen that look before, in men in his unit after they’d been ambushed, when only a handful of them had made it out alive. That was the look of old traumas bubbling back up, of carefully suppressed terrors working their way to the fore.

Jake held his stuff a little closer to his chest as he crossed the road, slowing when he was within a few feet of the man. 

“Shitty night, huh?” he started, but there was no response so he continued. “I bet it was just one of the hipsters from NYU burning toast again. Probably got a 1560 on their SATs but can’t cook for shit. Bet they always had Mommy to do it for them. Hope it gets sorted soon, though. Colder ‘n a penguin’s balls out here, I tell ya. Not like I was planning on having kids or anything, but it’d still be nice not to freeze my nuts off. I’m kind of attached to them.”

That earned him a weary sideways glance, which was a start at least. The guy’s breathing had slowed somewhat, though his knuckles were still white where he gripped the bricks of the building.

Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other in an attempt to keep the blood flowing through them. It really was very cold. Shoes would have been good.

“Man, this reminds me of that one time we went camping up near Mount Washington. It’s was Jess’s idea - my sister. She convinced Dad to take us, even though it was only the beginning of April, so too early in the season for camping, but we’d had a few warm days and, well, Jess just loves camping. So she makes Dad take us, and of course over night there’s a cold snap and we actually get snowed in. Lucky we had a Jeep or we’da been stuck up there in the snow. Man, I couldn’t feel my toes for like three days after that. They were like…”

Jake let his words trail off softly, shifting his things to one arm and flexing his fingers before he carefully stepped closer to the man and wrapped them around his wrist, icy fingertips pushed into his pulse point. “Like blocks of ice.”

He got exactly the reaction he was hoping for, namely a long exhale of breath and slumping of the shoulders from the guy, which was good, since it could just as easily have ended with Jake getting punched in the face. And it would have been hard to block with his hands full.

“Good,” he says. “They’re cold, I know. Just focus on the cold.”

The guy swallowed, and Jake was only a little distracted by the way his throat muscles moved as he did, but he kept talking instead, curling his fingers a little tighter around the guy’s wrist.

“We used to have this dog when I was a kid, Roxy, beautiful red and white husky but definitely not the brightest, and whenever an ambulance would pass by our house, which was like all the time since we lived right near the hospital, she’d sit by the window and howl along with the sirens. I don’t know if it was cuz she didn’t like the noise or if she thought it was a long-lost cousin or something, but every time - awoooooooh! Awoooooooh!”

He was spared from any further howling by an amused glare - Jake had been glared at a lot in his day, but this was a first - from the guy. Jake returned the sentiment with a smile.

He shifted his weight again, his legs and arms now shivering uncontrollably, and clutched his things tighter to his chest. Unfortunately that made his towel come loose and he had to let go of the guy’s wrist to catch it before he could be accused of public indecency. 

With the instant reflexes that can only come from years of training, the guy snapped around towards Jake and caught the top item in Jake’s pile as it started to slide off. He turned it over to see what it was before handing it back to Jake with a knowing smile. “I am a leaf on the wind,” he said with a low voice.

And that was when Jake’s stomach did a weird dancing thing, his pulse quickened by at least three hundred percent and the cold suddenly didn’t bother him anymore, since that was the moment Jake Jensen fell in love.

At least he was pretty sure that was what happened, because really, what else could it be if your mysterious and incredibly sexy neighbor, who you happen to know shares your love of pizza and industrial music and has an irresistible Latino accent and some truly mesmerizing eyes, saves your Firefly DVD set from probably shattering into many, many small pieces AND then goes and quotes from the movie. Jake could only be glad he hadn't said anything about “aiming to misbehave”, because then Jake would almost definitely actually have died.

It took a second for Jake to process all this enough to react, and when he finally managed to do so, all he could come up with was “So you’re the guy who’s been mooching my WiFi.”

_What the heck, Jake?_ Way to ruin it, you idiot. Go ahead and tell him you've been monitoring his internet activity, why don’t you? ‘Hey guy I just met and who was just in the middle of a flashback, I thought this might be a great time to tell you I've been cyber-stalking you.’ Yeah, that’s bound to go over well…

And yet, for some reason the guy didn’t run away, didn’t kill Jake with his thoughts or at least a swift twist of the neck. Instead he just shrugged slightly and - was that a smile? 

“Figure if someone leaves their network open, they want to share it. If not, they should set a password.”

Oh god, and now he was talking about internet security. It was a good thing it was so cold out here, since otherwise that towel would not have been enough to hide what that would have done to Jake (had it not been so cold).

“Sharing is caring, as they say,” Jake replied with a half-cocked smile. “And also a good way to make sure your neighbors aren't up to anything too questionable. Not that I spend all my time monitoring what people have been googling,” he added quickly. Even if that wasn’t entirely true. “Just if some red flag stuff comes up. Shit. I really need to stop talking.” 

The guy let out a quiet laugh at that, which was possibly the most beautiful thing Jake had ever heard. 

“ _Sí_ ,” he said, “that would be good. Come on, let’s go inside before you freeze to death.” He nodded towards their building.

Jake had been too wrapped up in his monologue to realize that the alarm had stopped and their other neighbors were slowly heading back inside. 

“Yeah, let’s do that. Uh, thanks for catching my DVDs. And sorry about the verbal diarrhea. It’s kind of a problem I have.”

The guy carefully placed the DVD box back on top of the pile of laptops and hard drives Jake was clutching and nodded his head slightly. “Thanks for the…” His voice trailed off and he didn’t finish the sentence, but it was clear what he meant. Instead he pushed himself away from the wall and started across the street. Jake followed next to him.

“Of course, man. Glad I could help. I’ve been there too, you know. It sucks. You ever need someone to talk to - or to talk _at_ you, I’m best at that - I live in 6A. I’m Jake, by the way.”

The guy turned to look at Jake from under the brim of his hat, his head tilted slightly to the side. “Carlos,” he offered as he held the building door open for Jake to step through. 

Jake was aware that he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. “Awesome,” he blurted like a stupid teenager as he mashed the elevator call button with his elbow. “Hey listen, I know the guys in my unit, when they had an episode, they often didn’t like being alone after. I was gonna make some food anyway. Think I can scrounge together the fixings for French toast - I make a mean-good French toast, Beth always says - that’s my niece, Beth. My sister’s kid. You wanna come in for some grub?”

“For breakfast?”

Jake nodded. Probably a little too enthusiastically. He _had_ been planning to meet his friend Sam at their favorite bar in the Village, but suddenly going out and trying to pick up some stranger held no appeal to him.

“It’s ten o’clock at night.”

“Never too late or too early for breakfast. Especially French toast á la Jensen.” Jake put on his cheesiest fake French accent as he said it.

The guy - Carlos - nodded, the corner of his mouth (and oh god, it was a beautiful mouth) quirking up ever so slightly. “Well in that case…”

Jake grinned as the elevator came to a stop on the sixth floor. “Great. Excellent. Come along. Promise I’ll even put on clothes before I start cooking.”

That earned him a quiet chuckle from Carlos, who followed him out of the elevator and to the door of Jake’s apartment. Jake carefully handed the pile of his stuff to Carlos to hold as he fumbled with the key. He couldn’t help but wonder if Carlos was aware how much trust it took for Jake to hand off his most prized possessions to someone who was, in effect, a complete stranger.

He managed to get the door open and gestured for Carlos to step inside. It was subtle, the way Carlos carefully peered inside to make sure there wasn’t an ambush waiting for them, and how he assessed all the exits as he glanced around, but Jake had had enough training to catch it. It was the kind of habit that only came from some sort of military or law enforcement training, and it was definitely also a sign of some lingering trauma. Jake made a mental note to find out more.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Uh, mi casa es tu casa,” Jake said, gesturing towards the table for Carlos to put his stuff down on, which he did, “so make yourself at home while I go work on being not naked.”

Carlos let out a huff and waved for Jake to go as he took a careful seat on the couch. 

While he was getting dressed, Jake fired off a quick text message to his friend to inform him that he wasn’t going to be able to meet him after all because he had to help a neighbor. Sam replied with a winky face and instructions to “have fun”.

Carlos was standing near the bookshelf looking slightly more at ease when Jake stepped out of his bedroom fully dressed a few minutes later.

“You served too?” Carlos asked, indicating towards the picture of Jake and his unit.

Jake nodded. “I did. That was taken on my first tour. Afghanistan. Guy on my left was my buddy Ben. My niece Beth,” he tapped against another photo of a little girl, “her dad.”

Jake carefully didn’t elaborate and was glad when Carlos spoke again.

“How long?”

“Did that tour and one in Iraq, got out after that.”

Carlos nodded, mostly to himself probably, his lips curled in a thin frown. Jake wondered if he was recalling his own reasons for leaving. He decided not to push the matter - Carlos didn’t seem at ease enough to talk about it - and opted instead to start pulling together ingredients for the French toast.

Carlos followed him towards the kitchen area, leaning over the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. God, who knew _leaning_ could be so sexy?

Jake was in the middle of cracking the third egg when Carlos spoke. It took him by such surprise that he smashed the egg, dropping half the shell into the bowl.

“Why’d you decide to get out?”

Jake shrugged as he tried to fish out some of the shell bits. “You know, the usual reasons. Saw too many good people get killed. Plus I got sick of hiding. Of course they go and repeal Don’t Ask Don’t Tell like eight months later, but…” He waved his hand in the air noncommittally, accidentally flinging a bit of raw egg on his fingers across the room. “It’s better this way. Less stress. More pizza.” 

It was maybe a bold move, coming out to Carlos this early in their relationship/acquaintance/whatever, but chances were if he’d seen the picture of Jake and his Army unit, he’d also probably noticed the picture a little higher up of Jake and his new friends taken at Pride last year, where Jake was wrapped up in a giant rainbow flag in lieu of a shirt, with rainbow glitter in his hair and stuck to his skin. Not much plausible deniability there. Plus he hoped it might add a bit of levity to the conversation, which it really could use right now.

It was strange - even almost six years after leaving the Army and with DADT gone, Jake still felt his pulse quicken and his throat tighten whenever he spoke to someone connected to the armed forces and the topic of conversation strayed toward the matter of sexual orientation. 

Carlos seemed to take it in stride, though, and Jake’s antics actually earned him a smile from Carlos. Excellent. Totally worth the mess on the wall.

“More pizza is good,” Carlos agreed, and Jake could have sworn he caught a smile flicker over his otherwise rather deadpan neighbor’s face.

“The more the better,” Jake said with a chuckle, and he forced himself to turn his attention to his cooking. If he didn’t, he’d end up in Crushville, and the last thing he needed right now was to start pining for his tragically straight neighbor.

So he prattled on about pizza and oven temperatures and “did you know that the first written mention of pizza said that tenants had to give the bishop twelve pizzas on Christmas Day and on Easter Sunday? Because damn, I want that guy’s job” as he cooked, and Cougar listened.

It was nice to have someone just _listen_. Most people tried to join in when Jake got going, or worse, to shut him up. But Carlos, man, they’d only just met and there he was, _listening_.

Not only did he listen, he also really seemed to enjoy Jake’s cooking (inasmuch as he didn’t show a ton of emotion generally, so that appreciative hum and the way his eyes closed as he took his first bite of French Toast á la Jensen were basically like three Michelin stars).

It was probably foregone to say that Jake was in love, but damn, the thought definitely crossed his mind.

Which was ridiculous, because for all Jake knew, Carlos wasn’t into dudes. But unrequited love for tragically straight guys had always been Jake’s forte, so at least he was in familiar territory. And he’d learned, over the years, that the key was to just enjoy the moments as they came. So yeah, when Carlos’ foot nudged his under the table, that memory was going to get catalogued. And when they moved to the living room to sit more comfortably, and he sat just close enough to Jake on the couch that their legs would brush every so often, yep, one for the scrapbook.

Jake lost track of time, and Carlos didn’t seem too fussed to get going either. It was Jake’s traitorous body that ruined it all, though, when he caught himself yawning.

Carlos looked over, then pushed the button on Jake’s phone on the coffee table to check the time. 

12:43 AM.

“I should get going,” Carlos said, his voice raspy. “It’s late.”

Jake was about to say that he should stay, but stopped himself. _No use in sounding desperate, Jensen._

“Alright,” he said instead, following Carlos to the door.

Carlos stopped at the door and turned to face Jake, tilted his head to the side as if considering something. He stepped closer, raised his hand and placed it on Jake’s shoulder.

_It’s just a platonic gesture,_ Jake told himself, swallowing down darker thoughts.

“Thanks for the French toast,” Carlos said as he gave Jake’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Jake nodded idly. “Yeah, you’re welcome. Any time.”

That’s when Jake felt a hand slip around the back of his neck - okay, that was _not_ a strictly platonic touch - and pull him closer. The brim of Carlos’ hat pushed through Jake’s hair. Their foreheads were touching, and Jake caught Carlos’ gaze for a fleeting second when Carlos stilled in a moment of hesitation.

Jake willed himself to bring his hands up to settle on Carlos’ hips, still not quite believing that this was actually happening, and that must have been all the encouragement Carlos needed to lean in and catch Jake’s lips in a kiss.

His moustache was scratchy in that delightful way that Jake loved about beards, his kiss eager and firm. The taste of maple syrup lingered on his lips, and Jake wanted nothing more than to lick away every last bit of sweetness. He returned the kiss eagerly, parting his lips when Carlos seemed to be seeking permission to do so. A happy whimper escaped him as Carlos threaded his fingers through Jake’s hair. 

God, he could do this forever, just stay in this moment.

He kicked the door shut again with his heel and pulled Carlos close, pinning himself against the door. Hands were wandering along his sides, brushing along his jawline, running over his arms, wrapping around his waist. Jake rolled his hips, finding that sweet friction as their erections brushed against each other through their pants, which suddenly felt much too tight.

Jake still couldn’t quite believe this was real, though the eager way Carlos pushed back certainly felt real.

And yet not real enough. Jake suddenly wanted more, needed more. He let out a strangled groan and brought his hand down to cup Carlos’ ass. Shit, that was beautiful.

Carlos had broken the kiss, which Jake would have been much sadder about had Carlos not done so in order to move on to kissing his way along Jake’s jaw. The stubble on his chin tickled delightfully as it scraped over the soft skin of Jake’s neck. Jake must have let out another whimper, which Carlos replied to with a soft, low chuckle in Jake’s ear that sent all of Jake’s synapses firing, sending impulses straight to his groin.

“Fuck, Carlos,” he ground out, digging his fingers into the muscles of Carlos’ back.

Carlos pulled back just far enough to catch Jake’s eyes. He tilted his head slightly with a shrug and a hint of a smirk, just enough to indicate ‘I’m game if you are’.

Jake surged forward and pulled him into a kiss again, this time more determined. He caught a handful of Carlos’ hair, ran his hands through it.

He still had his hat on. God, that hat was going to be the death of Jake.

“Come on,” he said, shoving Carlos lightly in the stomach to steer him towards the bedroom. Singing, he added “You can leave your hat on.”

For good measure, he added a little sashay and ended with a hip check.

Carlos groaned and rolled his eyes but followed Jake’s lead towards the bedroom door. He didn’t even bother waiting until they were fully inside before he wrapped his arms around Jake from behind, trailing hot kisses along Jake’s neck as his hands wandered south.

Shit, that was hot.

Jake felt his knees falter. He was going to have trouble staying on his feet if Carlos kept this up. Especially when Carlos deftly undid the buckle of Jake’s belt with one hand, the other splayed firmly across Jake’s chest to hold him still.

And then Jake’s pants were around his ankles - he hadn’t even noticed them being unbuttoned - and Carlos was reaching into his boxers and - oh holy hell - sliding his hand up the inside of Jake’s thigh.

Jake’s breath hitched, and Carlos abruptly stilled.

“Okay?”

Jake swallowed, struggling to formulate words. “Very, very okay.”

 

***

The other side of the bed was empty when Jake rolled over the next morning, slowly shaking off sleep. He wondered briefly if it had just been a dream, but then he became aware of that familiar soreness - a very welcome soreness, but present nonetheless - that served as physical evidence that it had, in fact, been real.

The sheets were a tangled mess on Jake’s side, but had been pulled more or less straight on the other side. They felt cold; clearly Carlos had left some time ago.

Jake winced slightly as he rolled out of bed and hauled himself to his feet, partially from soreness and just that reluctance to actually get out of bed and start his day. He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a long sigh.

The fact that Carlos had left without a word, well, it hurt. Alright, that he hadn’t _said_ anything wasn’t exactly a surprise, since Carlos seemed to be the textbook definition of “strong silent type”, but Jake would have at least hoped for some sign.

Actually, it was pretty surprising that Jake hadn’t been woken by him leaving. Jake wasn’t exactly a light sleeper, but he’d spent enough time in the Army to be awake in an instant at the sound of someone entering or leaving a room. Combat situations aside, it was hard to sleep restfully with a barracks full of guys who all suspected there was something you were Not Telling them and liked to take it out on you with some nasty pranks.

Well, no sense in dwelling, Jake decided as he shoved his glasses on his nose and made his way into the kitchen. He let out a happy groan when his fingers curled around his first cup of coffee - coffee makers with an automatic timer setting were definitely a gift from the gods of engineering - and set about his day.

Which, of course, included a peek at the activity on the open WiFi network. Jake had told himself he wouldn’t look at Carlos’ IP anymore, not now that they were, um... acquainted, but he couldn’t help that this caught his eye.

“Sonofabitch,” he muttered with a smile into his mug. 

So Carlos had left a note, in a way. There is was, at 5:32 AM, a search on Google for “how to apologize to a hook-up for leaving without saying goodbye when you have to go to work early but they are still asleep”.

“Apology accepted, you sneaky bastard.”

***

Jake was deep in Coding Mode later that afternoon, so the sound of a knock on the door was particularly jarring. He quickly input the end of the string he was working on and hustled towards the door just as the next, more insistent knock came.

He wasn’t expecting anyone else, but he peered through the peephole just to make sure it was Carlos. What he saw on the other side of the door was unexpected, to say the least.

“Tell me,” he said, trying his best but failing miserably to keep from the laughter at bay as he swung the door open, “did you just get off work or did you somehow know about my weakness for guys in uniforms?”

Carlos was wearing what looked like a security guard uniform, a badge reading “Saint Agnes Elementary - SECURITY” sewed onto the right sleeve of the black shirt and a badge with an actual star pinned to one of the chest pockets. ALVAREZ, the badge declared.

Carlos gave him an amused smile as Jake greeted him with a mock salute and gestured for him to step inside. 

“Officer Alvarez,” Jake said in a mock-serious tone.

He was rewarded with a paper bag shoved into his abdomen in response, which he quickly brought his hands up to catch. 

“Work,” Carlos said even-toned.

Jake smiled and closed the door. “And here I thought Google had told you that fulfilling kinks is a great way to make up for disappearing in the middle of the night.” 

He opened the paper bag and stuck his nose in. The smell that greeted him was just about magical. “Ohmigod, apology totally accepted,” he said as he reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of churros.

“Hey, they’re not all for you,” Carlos reprimanded as he grabbed one out of Jake’s hand.

Jake may have let out a whine in protest, but it faded quickly as he watched Carlos take a bite, chew slowly, then lick the stray bits of sugar off his lips.

“Apology definitely accepted,” he muttered under his breath as he bit into his own churro. God, that was good. “Fuck, it’s like they reached up and caught a bit of heaven, then they deep-fried it and coated it in sugar.”

Cougar smiled and shook his head in amusement. “Had a feeling you’d like them.”

“Does anyone _not_ like churros? They’re only, like, the greatest thing ever.”

Cougar shrugged. “Supermodels?”

A bit of sugar sprayed out of Jake’s mouth as he laughed. ‘Well that was only slightly embarrassing…’ he thought, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Here, you’ve got some…” Cougar brought a hand up slowly, brushing his thumb along the corner of Jake’s mouth. 

It took every ounce of willpower Jake had to not drop the rest of the churros, scoop Cougar up and carry him into the bedroom so he could carefully peel him out of that uniform.

Instead he shook his head in an attempt to clear that thought out of it, then swallowed down the bite of churro he’d been chewing. He did actually need to be a responsible adult for a little while today. “Uh, as much as this is, like, the greatest apology snack ever, I was kind of in the middle of work that I still need to finish.” He indicated towards his computer with his thumb.

“Yeah, of course, sorry,” Carlos said, already turning towards the door. “See ya, neighbor.”

“No, wait, that’s not -” Jake reached out to grab Carlos by the wrist. “I wasn’t trying to kick you out. I just really do need to finish this. But maybe give me about two hours, we can order some food and watch a movie or something while it compiles?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow at him, so Jake explained “While my glorious code gets turned into a beautiful, beautiful program.”

That earned him a smile and a nod, so mission accomplished.

“Great,” Jake said with a smile. “See you then.”

If Jake worked a little faster when he returned to his desk and sang to himself as he input string after string, well, that was probably just the rush of sugar flooding him with happiness. Sure, that had to be it.


End file.
